


Canary Yellow

by Val_Creative



Series: Rainbow Femslash February 2020 [10]
Category: His Dark Materials (TV), His Dark Materials - Philip Pullman
Genre: Alternate Canon, Angst, Canon - Book and TV Combination, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/F, Falling In Love, Family, Femslash, Femslash February, Femslash February 2020, Implied/Referenced Abuse, Little Lyra Belacqua, Motherhood, Pining, Pre-Season/Series 01, Protectiveness, Spies & Secret Agents, Unresolved Romantic Tension, Weapons
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-10
Updated: 2020-02-10
Packaged: 2021-02-28 02:28:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 982
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22656274
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Val_Creative/pseuds/Val_Creative
Summary: From the moment she saw her, drifting elegantly into the long, marbled foyer, Ma Costa understands Marisa is deceiving everyone. She’s no more a sweetling than her golden monkey daemon biting aggressively on his needle-like, obsidian claws.
Relationships: Marisa Coulter/Ma Costa
Series: Rainbow Femslash February 2020 [10]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1620025
Comments: 13
Kudos: 28
Collections: Femslash February





	Canary Yellow

**Author's Note:**

> I have missed writing HDM. I'm definitely doing more as soon as March hits. HI HELLO! WELCOME TO ANOTHER RAINBOW DAY FOR FEMSLASH FEBRUARY 2020! WE ALWAYS NEED MORE FEMSLASH! And now I'm on the Yellows some more! This is for Day 10 " _Competition_ " for the official (unofficial) [prompts](https://femslashfeb.tumblr.com/post/190473208546/any-world-any-fandom-any-originals-however-you) this month. Please enjoy. Any thoughts appreciated!

*

Gyptians keep their word when they promise it. They look out for their own.

Lord Asriel Belacqua summons her into John Faa's parley room, every line in his face rigid. His newborn daughter has been living with Mrs. Marisa Coulter — _the mother_ — but he's uncertain of Lyra Belacqua's conditions. Her health and happiness.

Ma Costa volunteers to infiltrate the Coulter estate, keeping an eye on Lord Asriel's daughter, and to rely information back.

*

She serves as Lyra's nurse, hired by a joint decision of the Butler and the Housekeeper within a month.

Marisa greets her, touching hands with a professionally detached warmth and kissing Ma Costa's cheeks airily. She's as _beautiful_ as rumoured. Dark, soft coils of hair. Porcelain, well-oiled skin. Aquamarine eyes. The kind of eyes that _glint_ with sharp intent. Ma Costa can smell a whiff of metal on her beneath the heavy, floral-spice perfume and upon her canary yellow dress.

From the moment she saw her, drifting elegantly into the long, marbled foyer, Ma Costa understands Marisa is _deceiving_ everyone. She's no more a sweetling than her golden monkey daemon biting aggressively on his needle-like, obsidian claws.

Lyra seems energetic and joyful as soon as Ma Costa arrives, cooing faintly. She mouths on her baby kitten daemon's tail.

There's no need for a competition between them as mothers (oh, how she longs to be back with her darling Tony), but Ma Costa can feel the slightest hint of animosity towards her. Marisa rarely holds Lyra. She spends most of her time beside the nursery's crib, frowning down at her daughter wiggling and squalling for attention in the late hours, rocking herself.

"She won't feed," Marisa says quietly, forlornly observing when the other woman cradles Lyra. "I've tried everything to—"

"It'll be alright, hush," Ma Costa whispers, helping Lyra into Marisa's arms and exposing her breast. She pinches softly, rhythmically, listening to the astonished note in Marisa's breath, stimulating the milk-gland. "She'll take. Be patient with her."

She offers a close-lipped smile, and Marisa only gawks at Ma Costa as Lyra nurses contently from her mother's breast.

*

They're not friends.

They never could be considered _friends_ in this highborn society Marisa surrounds herself in.

But… Ma Costa has fallen a little in love with her. She supposes everyone does.

Marisa has a young, vulnerable disposition masking her rage and ambition. She wanders the corridors of her husband's estate alone, sweeping in glittering, diamond-bright jewellery, chewing her fingernails and knuckles and fingertips. She nervously bites the ends of her hair, dragging them between her teeth while Ma Costa checks on Lyra's mild fever during the upcoming spring. Marisa slumps over a desk, working on her college dissertation, gnawing and biting into her forearm until she leaves teethmarks and Ma Costa has to pull her away.

She seems to be constantly on the verge of a breakdown.

Ma Costa grumbles, undressing her roughly after scrubbing the floors, and then notices the small, thin pistol.

It's real. It's held up by leather straps underneath Marisa's brassiere.

" _I have to protect Lyra_ …" Marisa says dully, her aquamarine eyes filling with tears. Ma Costa's features tighten. Yes, this is Lord Asriel's child. Not Edward Coulter's own. He's bound to figure it out as soon as Edward Coulter returns from his travels. " _You must understand_ …"

Ma Costa nods, sliding her palms to the sides of Marisa's head, drawing both women together.

"I do," she murmurs.

Tears glitter, warm and no more diamond than Marisa's porcelain skin. Ms Costa's hawk daemon nudges his head to the golden monkey who paws over his feathers, crooning inquisitively and half-hugging the other daemon against him.

"Please…" Marisa exhales, shuddering in her trepidation. "Take her to Asriel, please…" The other woman stiffens. Ma Costa's hands try to lower but Marisa grips them hard, keeping them to her flushed-hot cheeks. "I know you know him. It doesn't matter how I know… just take her. She'll be safe with him. I can orchestrate a falsified account of her death but you _must_ take Lyra first."

Marisa's fingers rake into Ma Costa's loose, yellow braid, clinging on in desperation.

"I will," Ma Costa promises. Smiling tenderly, she embraces this weeping mother.

*

Everything spirals.

Higher, and higher, until there's nowhere to go but to the peak.

Marisa basks in success. Years of organising and strategy and doing what needed to be done for a taste of power. And now, she _wants_ Lyra. Her daughter. Even if Lyra doesn't want anything to do with her mother.

On the ground floor of Marisa's quarters, she paces.

One of the staff delivers the list of children's names who were successfully Cut. Marisa greedily snatches it, turning every page for the medical charts and assessments. _Costa_ — the name has Marisa's stomach bursting with invisible thorns — _Costa, Billy_.

"No," Marisa whispers, rereading the page in horror. "No, no, no."

She howls out in full force, throwing the clipped folder.

*

Marisa fetches Billy herself, ordering The Station's workers to go about their business.

He does nothing but sits quietly without his daemon. Indifferent to Marisa's arms wrapped around him, and her sorrowful, murmurous kisses. Billy is stronger than the rest — like his _mother_ , like Ma Costa — and he will make it out _alive_. He has to.

Marisa allows him to sleep with her, nestling him to her breast, humming out softly. She dresses him warmly in layers.

No-one bothers to locate him. Marisa guides the little boy to one of the rear-entrances, telling him where to go.

A fish village. It will be a days-long journey, and she's packed him enough rations to make it there. He will ask a family for shelter. They must be his new family. Billy only stares into Marisa's teary, aquamarine eyes vacantly, and then nods jerkily.

He wanders free, stumbling listlessly into deep snowy forest.

And the first seed of doubt flowers in Marisa's chest.

*


End file.
